A Bromance is Born
by QUACK Inc
Summary: Will Herondale and Jem Carstairs both were touched by tragedy early in their lives. Can they look past their own pain to help each other and form the famous parabatai relationship we all know and love?


Will Herondale couldn't sleep.

Even after almost six months away from home, he dreamed about his family every night. In his dream they were trapped in his house, which was on fire. Will tried to run inside to save them, but every time he tried, he was thrown back as if he'd hit an invisible barrier. He could only watch helplessly as the house with his family screaming inside, burned down before his eyes.

He woke up, panting for breath, tears on his pillow. Too afraid to go back to sleep, he decided to take a walk through the institute.

The doors he passed by in the halls were all dark, except for one. Witchlight flickered and flowed out from under Jem Carstairs' door. Perhaps he was awake. _It would be nice to have company_ , Will thought, and knocked on the door, hoping he wasn't disturbing Jem's sleep.

"Who is it?"

"Jem, it's me, Will. Are you awake?"

"Yes, come in."

Will swung open the door. He had never been in Jem's room before. It was different than his own ramshackle room in the corner tower: spotlessly clean, with a four-poster bed and an armchair facing the fire. There were a few of his personal things too: a silver box on the mantle, a steamer trunk that looked like it had come all the way from China. And Jem, sitting on the bed, still dressed and holding a violin in his lap, not playing. He lifted his face, and Will could see tear tracks, shining in the witchlight.

 _Bother_ , thought Will.

"Oh, er . . . sorry, bad time?" he asked awkwardly.

Jem wiped his face with his sleeve. "Not at all, Will. Why aren't you in bed?"

Will walked further into the room and sat down beside Jem.

"Couldn't sleep. Is that your violin?" He asked, looking at the instrument curiously.

Jem nodded, then added, "Not really. it used to belong to my father, but since he . . ."

Will immediately understood. "He's dead, then? I'm sorry."

Jem shook his head. "I told you already, don't be. There's nothing you or I can do about it."

But Will really WAS sorry, he knew what it was like to miss his family - though with the careless, unfeeling facade he put on, Jem might not believe he really empathized. Then again, maybe he did believe it - Jem always seemed to see what he really felt.

Will wanted to kick himself for bringing up painful memories for Jem.

"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine," he said. "I can leave."

"No, stay, Will. I can't fall asleep anyway. I can tell you the rest of the story, if you wish to hear."

Jem talked. He spoke of the demon that had killed his parents and gotten him addicted to the deadly _yin fen_ , about the weeks the Silent Brothers had experimented on him afterward, seeing how long he could go without it - and finally, waking up and being told that not only was his family gone, but he would have to leave Shanghai and travel halfway across the world to London to be safe.

"Not that I really mind London," he added hurriedly, seeing Will's horrified expression.

Will continued to look horrified. "And the reason you're dying, it's because this drug is killing you?"

Jem nodded.

"What happens when you run out of it? Surely you have a way to get more-"

"I will have to buy more, I suppose. Find some Downworlder willing to sell it to me." Jem looked sickened at the idea.

Will felt a stab of pity. "You don't need to do that," he said. "You don't know London as well as I do, and you're likely to get lost within the maze of streets or eaten by a rogue demon. I'll buy your _yin fen_ for you."

"Will, no. Don't trouble yourself on my account."

"Don't be stupid, it's no trouble, but I have a question for you. Can you play?" He asked, gesturing to the violin that sat propped on the pillow.

"Not very well," Jem answered, "my father taught me a few things, and I'm learning from books now. I can play a few pieces."

"Can I hear?"

Jem hesitated. He had been trying to bring himself to play, but the wave of memories when he saw the violin his father had had made, had played for his mother, had been teaching him to play since he was only seven years old - a wave of memories had knocked him back, and he couldn't bring himself to touch it.

Still, though, he owed something to Will for always being so kind to him, listening to him as he poured out his story, even offering to buy his drugs. What a change from the moment when they had first met, when Will had been inexplicably rude to him. _There is something dark and awful he is running from_ , Jem thought, _that makes him act so cruel_. _I wonder why he is nice only to me. Probably out of pity._

"Yes, of course, although forgive me - I'm a little out of practice."

He picked up the violin and rested it on his shoulder, feeling the sleek wood of the bow under his fingers, remembering the countless nights his father had sat with him in the music room and taught him to play.

" _Hold the bow over that note a little longer, James - that's the ticket!" His father had said, grinning hugely. Jem, proud of himself for finally getting Beethoven's 5th symphony right, had grinned back._

He shoved the memory away and ran the bow lightly, tentatively, across the strings.

Like a trickle of water that turns into a rushing cascade, the music started soft at first and then grew louder as he poured his heart into it. And a curious thing - as he played, he felt the pain recede and get lost in the music. By the time he was done, his heart felt ten times lighter.

He opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them, and saw Will, grinning madly. He burst into a round of applause.

"Bravo, Jem, that was brilliant!" I don't know what you're talking about - that was the best music I've ever heard, although of course the only other music I've heard is Jessamine trying to play the spinet, and that sounded like a thousand cats clawing a chalkboard."

Jem smiled shyly, putting the bow back in its case. "You liked it, then?"

"Liked it? I loved it. I shall tell Charlotte that we ought to keep you."

Jem looked horrified. "You weren't going to turn me out on the streets, were you?"

"Well, it was touch-and-go for a while - I'm kidding! We would never turn you out, you idiot." He hit Jem lightly on the shoulder.

Jem laughed, but he was secretly relieved. Then he realized this was the first time he had laughed, really laughed, in weeks. And suddenly he felt that the London Institute wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
